Peter was in a rush to wrap up his afternoon patrol, not wanting to keep Ned waiting for too long. It was just past six, so he reasoned that he should have plenty of time.

He had a pretty good day shopping with Harry. It hadn't even been two weeks since they met, but they did hang out a lot in that time, so Peter felt like he could call the guy a friend. And he had a serious shortage of those.

Not to say Peter was friendless. Obviously, there was Ned, and MJ — depending on her mood — but that was pretty much it. He guessed he was friendly with the decathlon team and some others in school, but friendly acquaintances were far from being friends.

Peter would normally be more nervous around someone new, but Harry was just so nice and unpretentious; it was easy to let his guard down around him. The last time he warmed up to someone so quickly was back in middle school, when this cheerful Hawaiian kid sat next to him in the cafeteria. He should only be so lucky as to have found another friendship like that.

There was something weird about Harry though. He was so clueless about the most basic things sometimes and, as endearing as it was, Peter sometimes wondered if it could really be explained away by his background. It was just an odd feeling he had.

'At least it's been a quiet day,' he tried to redirect his thoughts away from the other boy. 'Guess even criminals like to take a day off.'

Earlier, he'd stopped a burglary in the outskirts of Brooklyn. Three brothers down on their luck had apparently decided to turn it around by robbing a local grocery store. He'd gotten the jump on them when they were yelling at each other and moments away from trading blows. Apparently the idiots never considered that a small local grocery store might not be drowning in cash, and were pissed at each other about the small haul.

Besides that he only did a bunch of small helpful stuff, rescuing cats from trees, helping old ladies through traffic — just friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man stuff.

He was casually swinging his way back home when his enhanced senses picked up the sound of a shrill scream. It was over to his right, not too far away. Peter shot out a web and used it to swing himself up in the air, doing a flip and landing atop the nearest building. Lacking any proper high points to swing from, he used his strength and speed to run across the roofs and leap across the roads, until he got to the general area of the scream.

He moved around the block, scanning the streets and alleys for any criminal activity. The only person on the street was a slightly dishevelled woman walking briskly down the street. Not an unusual sight, to be honest. Peter was wondering if he should approach her, to ask if she heard any screaming, when he heard a gunshot ring out. It came from a nearby alley.

Peter rushed there, and what he saw horrified him.

A man was crouched over two unconscious men trying to wake them up. All three of them wore ski masks disguising their identities, even as they marked them as the likely criminals. Closer to the entrance of the alley was another man splayed out on the ground, blood gushing from an open head wound.

It was a gruesome sight. Even ignoring the awful sight of all that blood, the brain matter just peeking through hole in the skull was enough to make Peter incredibly nauseated. Peter tried to calm himself, even as his stomach lurched and he had to keep from throwing up. The young superhero shook his head, thinking of how Mr. Stark would handle this. He steeled himself and jumped off the roof, landing with a quiet thud on the ground near the dead body — not close enough to step on the pooling blood; he didn't need to be cleaning that off.

The sound of his landing startled the man trying to rouse his friends. He jumped up to his feet and fumbled for his gun, but Peter was faster and knocked the gun out of his reach with a precise shot of his web fluid. The gun flew out of the thugs hand to the other side of the alley, wrapped in a web that made it useless.

"S-Spiderman! The fuck are you doing here!?" The panicked thug yelled out.

"Just thought I'd check up on my favourite alley. This one has the nicest rats, you know?" Peter replied, trying to maintain his bravado even as he was keenly aware of the corpse right next to him.

The man paid his words no mind, clearly trying to find a way out of this situation. Peter didn't see how. Sure, the guy could pretend to be innocent but the gun, the bullet the cops would surely find somewhere in or behind the body, and Spider-Man's own testimony were more than enough to get him locked up for ages.

"So normally I'd make some jokes and have a little fun with the bad guys," Peter told the criminal, "but you kind of murdered someone, so..."

The thug squared his shoulders. Peter narrowed his eyes. It seemed that the thug was going to do this the hard way. Sure enough, the asshole pulled out a knife from his pocket and charged. Nonplussed, Peter only let him get as far as two feet before he had the guy webbed up. With a wince, Peter watched as the murdering jackass fell over, landing face first onto the gravel.

The man cried out in pain.

"Fuck you bug boy!" He yelled. His words were muffled by the asphalt, but Peter heard him anyway.

The young man decided to ignore the captive criminal for the time being. He briefly directed his suit's AI Karen to alert the police, which she dutifully did, but not before telling Peter that Mr. Stark would most likely want to talk to him about this incident.

Peter sighed, but acknowledged the message. This wouldn't be the first murder Peter dealt with, but Mr. Stark always made sure that Peter talked to Happy and himself about any incident that was deemed traumatic. They were quite concerned about his mental health and wanted to make sure he dealt with any possible trauma. Of course, Mr. Stark never admitted he was worried about Peter. Instead, when confronted, the man cracked some jokes about Peter being too young to pull off the 'grizzled soldier with inner demons' look.

He moved over to the other two men, webbing them up just in case they woke up before the cops got there. Peter had to wonder just how they got knocked out in the first place. Was it their victim that did it?

Having secured the criminals, Peter finally ran out of excuses to avoid the gruesome scene and walked over to the dead body.

Crouching down by the corpse, taking care to avoid the spilled blood, he examined the body. The face was horribly disfigured, but something was familiar about it. There was a terrible feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Peter tried to ignore it and moved on to look over the body. The man was wearing a pair of slim red trousers, and a striped black and white sweater.

With dawning realisation, Peter thought back to just a few hours earlier. Harry had been wearing the same clothes.

He tried to tell himself that it was a perfectly common outfit, this could still be somebody else, but deep down he knew that this dead body belonged to one Harry Potter.

He didn't have it in him to touch the body or peel back the blood soaked fringe for a closer look, so he took a deep breath, trying to hold back tears, and pulled out his phone. He unlocked it and tapped the caller app, tapping on Harry's name on the list. He held his breath as the dial tone started; and seconds later, when a ringtone sounded from the pockets of the dead body, a single drop trailed down his cheek and landed on the pooling blood below.

Harry Potter, his new neighbour and friend was murdered. And Peter had arrived too late to stop it.

When Harry opened his eyes, all he saw was nothingness.

He was floating in darkness — cold and smothering yet somehow soothing. Everything about this pitch black void screamed out leave, you do not belong; and yet Harry felt like he was on a different wavelength, hearing nothing but a welcoming voice beckoning him further in.

He half wondered if he'd gone blind, but despite the absence of a single speck of light, he could still see his body and limbs as clear as day.

"Where the fuck am I?" Harry wondered aloud.

"You are home," a voice spoke, coming from all directions. It was loud and quiet, chilling and soothing, high and low — a dichotomy of opposites that sent a shiver up Harry's spine and raised the hairs on his neck.

"What- who? What does— I'm… home?" Harry asked the disembodied voice, looking around and feeling strangely at ease.

"You are home," it repeated.

"Show yourself," the young wizard demanded.

The darkness began to ripple, like it had been a still body of water disturbed by his words. Swirls of shadow began to creep in from all around, coalescing into a mass of darkness in the shape of a person.

When the darkness receded, Harry came face to face with… himself. The person — no, being — looking back at him was identical to him in every way, except its' eyes… its' eyes were two black holes devoid of all light and life. For whatever reason Harry could only describe this being wearing his face as the very antithesis of life.

"Death."

The Other Harry smiled.

"Your soul knows the truth."

This was a dream.

It had to be.

"No. No, no. Nononononono- No." Harry rejected everything he saw and felt. He trampled over the parts of his brain telling him this was real. He ignored the singing of his soul at the sight of this creature.

"This is just a dream. I got shot, I'm probably in a muggle hospital. This is just a hallucination from all their drugs. That's it," the young wizard told himself, speaking the words aloud as though hearing them would make them true. He looked down at his feet, refusing to acknowledge the being floating in front of him.

"Oh Harry, this is no dream."

Harry tried to ignore its words, but it was having none of that. He suddenly felt a familiar power grip his body and force him to look up at his void eyed reflection. He tried to fight the magic but it was impossible. He was hopelessly overpowered.

"I am the primal force every living creature knows and fears. I am the bringer of balance; the end and the beginning. I am Death."

Harry stopped struggling, going limp in the bonds that held him up.

"Why?" he asked. It was one word but it meant so many things. Why was he here? Why did Death look like him? Why was he in another world? Why? Why? Why?

"You have mastered my Hallows. The covenant has been forged."

"The Ha— Oh…. The Master of Death..." Harry spoke to himself"

Death narrowed its eyes and leaned closer — too close. "Master of Death you are not. 'Tis a silly tale born in the minds of foolish men," it scoffed.

"Then…" Harry trailed off.

"The Hallows were creations of mine from a time when the universe was young and I was not yet resigned to this lonely existence of mine. To them I gave of myself, that they could bestow my greatest gift to someone worthy. They have travelled the universes, lingered here and there, and finally — finally — they have been reunited." Death reached out and laid its hand on the side of his face. "I had nearly forgotten," the deity admitted. "So much time has passed. But here they— here you are."

"But I… why me?" Harry asked weakly.

"Chance. Destiny. Who's to say? Many have laid hands on my Hallows. A fair few have been in possession of all three. You are not alone in that achievement," Death explained. "But you are the first that was worthy. The first of that lot that did not seek immortality, that did not seek power, that accepted death and walked towards it with convictions true. There may be others that could have proved worthy, but no matter, it is done. My Hallows have made their choice, and they have chosen you."

The primal being narrowed its eyes, piercing Harry with the most intense gaze he would ever endure. He felt as if Death could see into his mind, his heart, his everything.

"You are now a piece of the whole. The first Child of Death."

Harry could only speculate that they had lost the Battle of Hogwarts, and this was simply cruciatus-induced insanity.

Death gave a derisive snort. "Come now Child, you must accept what you know to be true. Close your eyes, silence your errant thoughts, and feel."

Harry, for reasons he couldn't explain, listened to the deity wearing his skin. He closed his senses to the outside world, he ignored the thoughts ringing through his head, and he reached deep into the core of what he was.

What he saw and felt astounded him.

It could only be described as a supernova of power. A raging torrent of light and dark, with intertwining streams of the most vibrant greens and the most radiant golds. It was beautiful.

He opened his eyes and looked at Death in awe.

"That— that's really me?" he asked breathlessly.

"It is what you could become. At present you are not unlike a flickering candle in the face of the shining star you just glimpsed. You must ascend to your station; you must learn, grow, become."

For a moment, Harry wanted to ask how he could learn to be so great. The power he felt just then was mesmerising, and he needed to feel that rush again. But before he went down that path, he got a hold of himself and asked another question - one that had been plaguing his mind from the start of this encounter.

"What is it you want from me?"

Death hesitated. "I... know not. This was the result of a flight of fancy many millennia ago." Death frowned and shook his head. "There will be ample time in the future to explore what this means for us both. For now, I ask that you focus on yourself. Walk the path of self-discovery and become greater. The world I placed you in will aid you in this."

"Wait, you're the reason I'm in another world?!" Harry burst out. By Merlin, he was grateful to finally have an answer, and he didn't hate his new environment, but that didn't make it okay for Death to take him from his home and abandon him in a new world with no warning.

"I am indeed the one who placed you in that particular world, into a life I created for you." Death raised his hand, halting Harry's questions before they could begin. "The identity you have assumed is one I weaved into existence for you. Harry Potter and his family were soulless husks that came into existence only the moment you arrived. Like seeds, they were planted into the past, that you would have a branch on which to stand."

That… soulless husks? Harry couldn't even begin to process that, so he shoved those questions down. At least he knew now that Death had plopped him into this magicless world. But he didn't— why would—

Harry expressed his confusion to Death. "I don't understand. Why would you bring me there?"

Death grimaced, his identical features twisting. For a moment, he almost looked human.

"My intent at first was to leave you be for a single mortal life. You deserved that much, after all that you have done and seen. However, as the future of your world solidified, I saw the coming decline of the wizarding world, and more importantly I saw how they would have crushed your spirits. The weight of their expectations would never have been lifted, and they would have punished you for failing to meet them. A never ending cycle of praise and scorn. For the one who mastered my Hallows, this was unacceptable."

Harry's wild emotions stilled. He knew Death spoke the truth about the Wizarding World. In the months after the battle, he had wondered just how long the honeymoon would last. Merlin knows that as much as the wizarding public loved him, they also loved to hate him. Still, he had a bone to pick with the entity that thought it was acceptable to drop him into a new world without so much as a by-your-leave.

"You couldn't have warned me?" he asked, barely skirting past whining.

"I could have," Death conceded, with a smirk. "But I must admit watching you acclimate has been quite amusing."

Harry had to be thankful for the self-restraint he'd learned in the past few months. Attacking Death was probably a terrible idea, tempting as it was.

"In truth, I did not intend to reveal myself to you for some time yet. I wished to give you space to further adapt to your surroundings, to heal from the strain of carrying your old world. And yet, when given the opportunity I could not resist. You would have survived that encounter, however I took the chance to dull your senses, and in doing so hastened our meeting."

"I… see." Harry most decidedly did not see, but at this point he was so overwhelmed he was ready to accept anything Death told him, if only so he could get back to his apartment and collapse in bed, forgetting about the day's events. Finding out that Death let him get killed just so they could have a chat? Sure... whatever.

Death seemed to pick up on Harry's feelings. In a surprising move, it stepped closer and wrapped its arms around him, holding him close and tucking his face into the crook of its neck.

"You've learned much today," Death told him quietly. "There is more to tell, but it can wait. For now, I ask only that you live your life to the fullest, and that you begin mastering your gifts. The world I chose for you will aid in your journey, it is a place that will challenge you, even as it empowers you."

Death paused, letting the silence hang for a few heartbeats.

"I will be watching Harry, and I look forward to our next encounter."

With that, Harry felt the void recede, and Death's chilling — no, warm — embrace slowly faded away. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them moments later, he found himself standing in the middle of his living room.

It was the same as he left it that morning, and the sun was still mid descent. He could almost believe that it was a dream, that he'd hallucinated the whole encounter.

Except, there was a familiar power he could feel on his person — one that had not been there before. Following the source of the magic, Harry looked down at his left hand and opened his clenched fist. There, sitting in his palm, he saw the third of the Deathly Hallows — the resurrection stone.

He moved it between his fingers and held it up, watching numbly as it dissipated into wisps of darkness and joined the other Hallows in whatever place they called home.

What a day.

Harry didn't want to think about it at all.

His bed was calling for him.

Wait.

There was a noise.

Harry turned around and—

The body was gone.

Peter didn't understand what happened. He had been kneeling over Harry's body, eyes aching with welled up tears, when he was distracted by the two webbed up criminals stirring. He turned his head to check up on them, and when he turned back Harry's body was gone.

And not just the body. The blood was gone too. Every trace of the murder…

"What the fuck!?" he yelled. Peter sprang up to his feet and scanned the whole area.

"Karen! Did you see that? The body's gone!"

"Yes Peter, my sensors detect no trace of Mr. Potter in the area. This is highly unusual."

Peter stepped forward, trying to prod the area where the body had been with his foot. His thinking was that some invisibility tech might have been involved.

"Did you catch that?"

"I'm sorry Peter. It appears my sensors were temporarily disrupted in that moment. I am unable to provide any data."

"Damn it! What the hell is going on?"

Peter kicked the ground. He was so confused, and still feeling so raw from seeing his new friend dead in front of him. Although he wondered if that was really the case now.

"Would you like me to contact Mr. Hogan Peter? This is highly unusual, perhaps it might be helpful if he was informed."

Peter knew it was probably a good idea to tell Happy about a mysteriously disappearing body, but he wanted to figure things out on his own instead of running to Happy or Mr. Stark every time things got a little weird. He had promised his aunt that if he was ever in over his head, he would get help, and he intended to honour that promise — he just wasn't there yet.

"No, don't tell him yet. We can figure this out on our own right?"

They couldn't figure it out.

Karen couldn't find any traces of the body, and when questioned the webbed up thugs had no clue where the body went either. He also asked them how they got knocked out in the first place but they didn't seem to remember anything besides Harry charging at them. Interestingly enough, Karen couldn't detect any evidence of trauma on the two men that couldn't be attributed to the fall after losing consciousness. Whatever technique Harry used it would have been something very precise and expertly done to leave no trace. Peter half wondered if he used a Vulcan nerve pinch.

Peter had given up on solving the mystery when the cops showed up. It was tough explaining that the murder happened but there was no trace of it happening. Thankfully the cops were able to find enough evidence, including the gun and the bullet that was fired, to take the three into custody for violating their parole.

The cops wanted to question Spider-Man too, but thankfully he was able to put them off by telling them to contact Mr. Stark instead. Peter wasn't officially bound by the Accords, but as a result he was Mr. Stark's responsibility, which protected his identity but raised a whole other set of problems. Thus far, Peter was able to avoid conflict with the authorities by directing them to Mr. Stark every time there was an issue. He didn't know what the billionaire superhero did to make them go away but, well, he didn't need to.

Done with the scene, a confused Peter Parker made his way back home, jumping and swinging his way through Queens. He landed in a deserted alley he could change out of his suit in. It had been pointed out by Mr. Stark that sooner or later someone would notice Spider-Man creeping into the same apartment building every night, so they decided to set up secure lockboxes in locations all around the area, where Peter could keep a change of clothes.

Having put on his 'civilian' clothes Peter walked the few blocks back to his apartment, carrying his suit in a rucksack. He kept wondering what he would tell his aunt. Would he even tell her? Was Harry even dead? Nothing made sense and it made his head hurt.

Sick of turning his brain every which way to try and figure out what could have happened, Peter resolved to investigate Harry's apartment for clues. If he couldn't find anything then he'd get in touch with Happy.

The apartment was empty, so his aunt was probably out running some errands or visiting a friend. Ned was coming over, but Peter wasn't expecting him for another fifteen minutes. It wasn't a lot of time, but he decided to take the chance and break into Harry's apartment. He didn't know what to expect, if anything, but hopefully there would be some sort of clue.

Peter grabbed a small earpiece off of his desk and took out a pair of nanite wristbands from the drawer. He slipped on the bands & earpiece, watching the bands light up for a second as they powered up. The devices were meant to let him interface with Karen and utilise her capabilities, even when not in his Spider-Man suit.

Feeling like he was in a spy themed B-movie, Peter made his way out of the apartment into the hallway, stopping at the door of the opposite apartment.

"Engage lockpick protocol," he told the AI.

"Lockpick protocol engaged," her robotic voice confirmed through the small earpiece.

He took off the wristband and held it in his palm, watching as it lit up and transformed. The nanites rearranged themselves until what he held in his palm was a key that would mold itself into whatever shape was needed. He crouched down, placing himself at eye level with the lock, only to notice something was missing.

'Oh for fucks sake,' Peter wanted to smack himself.

The door wasn't even locked.

He stood up, letting the bracelet reform in his hands. He shook his head, feeling a little annoyed at having missed something so simple.

'Well, it's usually harder than this, so I shouldn't be too hard on myself,' he told himself. 'Also, who the hell leaves their door unlocked? Like, dude.'

Peter took a deep breath, pushing away the nerves that had suddenly risen up, and opened the door.

It swung open, and as Peter peaked into the apartment, he found Harry Potter standing in his living room looking very much alive, and a little confused — probably because Peter just barged into his apartment.

Like a deer in headlights, Peter went completely still.

"Peter?"

Peter knew he should probably say something.

But all he could do was look at Harry and try desperately not to show how bewildered he was at finding the other boy alive and well in his apartment.

This chapter has been a long time coming. Med school has been kicking my butt, so while the chapter has been written for a while, the editing took far too long.

Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews! They were lovely to read when I was stressed about this chapter. I'm really looking forward to hearing what you thought of this one especially.

Cheers!